intellect was not an ice-cold one. It was, so to speak,
suffering from trench fever, I could only see the situa-
tion from the point of view of the troops I had served
with; and the existence of supposedly iniquitous war
aims among the Allies was for that reason well worth
believing in—and inveighing against. Rivers sug-
gested that peace at that time would constitute a
victory for Pan-Germanism and nullify all the sacri-
fices we had made. He could see no evidence that
militarism was yet discredited in Germany. On one
occasion, when the pros and cons had got me well
out of my depth as a debater, I exclaimed, "It doesn't
seem to me to matter much what one does so long as
one believes it is right!" In the silence that ensued I
was aware that I had said something particularly
fatuous, and hurriedly remarked that the people in
Germany must be getting jolly short of food. I was
really very ignorant, picking up my ideas as I went
along, and rather like the man who said that he
couldn't think unless he was wearing his spectacles.
But Rivers always led me quietly past my blunders
(though he looked a bit pained when I inadvertently
revealed that I did not know the difference between
"intuition" and "instinct"'—which was, I suppose,
one of the worst mistakes I could have made when
talking to an eminent psychologist).
Among the wholesome activities of the hospital was
a monthly magazine, aptly named The Hydra. In the
September number, of which I have preserved a copy,
the editorial begins as follows: "Many of us who came
to the hydro slightly ill are now getting dangerously
well. In this excellent concentration camp we are fast
637